Summary: Karasuno’s going through 7 stages of grief after finding out their beloved blocker has a girlfriend, who is surprisingly SWEET!?.
Warnings: Tsukishima Kei x Oblivious!female!reader, reader is oblivious maybe a little too much, chaos and lots of fluff.
Characters: Tsukishima Kei(ft.Karasuno).
A/N: *cries in singleness*(ToT).
The entire Karasuno team had gathered in the gym for evening practice, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and volleyballs thudding in rhythmic chaos. Nishinoya was screaming about rolling-thunder, Kageyama was yelling about sets, and Tsukishima was—
Standing there, glaring at them, as usual.
Except Hinata noticed something different.
“Hey, Tsukishima,” he said as the team broke for water. “You’ve been smiling at your phone a lot lately.”
“I don’t smile.”
“You literally just did!”
Daichi raised an eyebrow from across the room. “You? Smiling? Must be serious.”
The gym quieted. Even Nishinoya stopped bouncing his ball.
Tanaka leaned forward, grinning like a hyena. “Wait. Tsukishima Kei…is that a girlfriend smile?”
Tsukishima froze mid-sip of water. “No.”
“Liar!” Hinata yelled immediately, pointing accusingly. “You totally have a girlfriend!”
“Oi, shrimp, stop talking nonsense—”
“WHO IS SHE?” Nishinoya practically screamed, jumping onto Tanaka’s shoulders. “IS SHE TALL? IS SHE COOL? DOES SHE EXIST?!”
Yamaguchi bit his lip to stifle a laugh. “Um. Actually…she does.”
Tsukishima turned to him slowly. “Yamaguchi.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Don’t.”
Too late.
Kiyoko, of all people, blinked in mild surprise. “You’re dating someone, Tsukishima?”
Even Sugawara’s smile turned dangerously curious. “Well, this is news. She must be someone special if you’re actually putting effort into hiding her.”
Tsukishima rubbed his temples. “You people are exhausting.”
But the damage was done.
Within minutes, the entire gym was buzzing with wild theories about the mysterious girlfriend. Nishinoya was convinced she must be “a cool college girl who likes clubbing.” Hinata thought “a mean girl who is mean to everyone except him .” Tanaka was sure “a tall queen who can handle his sarcasm.”
Daichi finally sighed. “Okay, everyone calm down. Tsukishima doesn’t have to tell us anything.”
But Kageyama squinted. “Then why is Yamaguchi laughing?”
Yamaguchi flinched. “N-no reason!”
Practice ended late that evening, the sky soft orange. Tsukishima was walking out of the gym with his bag slung over his shoulder when his phone buzzed.
[Name]: “I’m outside! Got your favorite strawberry milk :)”
Yamaguchi saw the message flash over his shoulder, eyes widening. “O-oh. She’s here?”
Tsukishima’s ears tinted pink. “Yeah, she wanted to walk home together.”
“Wait—outside the gym??”
Before Tsukishima could respond, the doors burst open and the entire team spilled out like excited puppies.
Nishinoya screamed,“WHERE IS SHE?”
Tanaka screamed joining him,“OUR LITTLE TSUKKI HAS A GIRLFRIEND—OH MY GOD!”
“STINKYSHIMA’S GIRLFRIEND EXISTS!!” Hinata was so shocked that he almost tripped.
While Kageyama was too stunned to speak.
“Kill me,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.
And then they saw you.
You were standing by the bike racks, a sweet, gentle smile lighting up your face, holding two cartons of strawberry milk in your hands. You waved cheerfully. “Kei! I got the kind you like! Oh, hello!”
You blinked as the Karasuno team collectively froze like they’d just spotted a unicorn—a very cute one.
Tsukishima took the milk from you quickly, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “thanks, idiot,” but his ears were scarlet.
“...You’re her?” Sugawara whispered.
You tilted your head, confused. “Me?”
“Holy crap, she’s adorable,” Tanaka breathed.
“She called him Kei,” Hinata whispered, awestruck. “She calls him Kei!”
Daichi tried to keep order, but even he couldn’t help but smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Daichi Sawamura, captain of the team. I hope Tsukishima’s treating you well.”
You laughed softly, eyes warm. “It's nice to meet you Daichi-san, I am [Name] and don't worry Kei's very sweet, actually.”
Tsukishima choked on his drink. “Don’t—say things like that in front of them.”
You blinked. “Why? It’s true.”
The team lost it.
Nishinoya fell to his knees. “TSUKISHIMA IS SWEET?! WHAT DIMENSION IS THIS?!”
Hinata’s jaw dropped. “How?? How did you do it?? He yells at me for breathing wrong!!”
Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we go now?”
But you, ever oblivious and sweet, just smiled at the team. “It’s nice to meet all of you! Kei talks about you a lot!”
Every head snapped toward Tsukishima in slow motion.
Tanaka gasped. “He TALKS about us?!”
Yamaguchi was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “Oh, he definitely does.”
You continued innocently, “He said Hinata’s really energetic but dumb, Kageyama’s super serious but also dumb and that Suga-san’s nice but a little scary when angry—”
Tsukishima groaned, turning his face away from the group.
“KEI!! You didn’t tell me they were all so funny!” you laughed, completely missing how he was slowly dying inside. “We should all hang out sometime!”
Hinata clasped your hands dramatically. “Please. Please save us from his sarcasm.”
Tsukishima grabbed your wrist gently, muttering, “We’re leaving.”
“But Kei—”
“Now.”
You pouted but agreed anyway.
After sharing goodbyes the team watched as you and Tsukishima walked away together, your hand swinging lightly in his.
Nishinoya exhaled deeply. “I can’t believe Tsukishima Kei has a girlfriend who smiles like that.”
Tanaka wiped away a fake tear. “Our salty little blocker’s grown up.”
Sugawara folded his arms, smirking. “He’s definitely whipped.”
“Whipped,” Kageyama agreed solemnly.
Hinata nodded. “Absolutely whipped.”
(While making that monk face XD).
Meanwhile, Tsukishima glanced at you beside him—your cheeks lit by the sunset, humming softly, oblivious to everything.
He sighed. “You…have no idea what you just did back there.”
You blinked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” He looked away, ears pink again. “Just… you talk too much sometimes.”
“But they were so nice! I liked them!”
He exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching up despite himself. “You would.”
You smiled at him, tilting your head. “You’re blushing, Kei.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re cute,” you said, completely serious.
He tripped over his own foot.
That night, Karasuno’s group chat exploded.
[Yamaguchi]: She’s the sweetest person I ever meet.
[Hinata]: How is he dating her???
[Nishinoya]: SHE CALLED HIM KEI (;-;).
[Tanaka]: The way she smiled at him... bro was about to melt.
[Daichi]: Don’t tease him too much.
[Sugawara]: Oh, I will.
And somewhere across town, Tsukishima was glaring at his phone while you were sitting beside him, happily sharing a pack of strawberry Pocky.
“Why do you look so angry?” you asked.
He sighed, leaning his body against yours quietly. “Because you met my team.”
“Didn’t you want that?”
“No.”
“Really? But they liked me!”
“I know.”
He paused. Then muttered, “Too much.”
You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder. “That’s okay. I like them too. But I like you most.”
He froze again, face bright red. “You really don’t know what you’re saying sometimes.”
You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”
He didn’t answer—just clicked his tongue, turned his head, and hid the smallest smile.
A week later, at practice, the team was still teasing him.
“Hey, Tsukishima, your girlfriend texted you again?” Hinata said in a teasing way.
“Aww, tell her we said hi!” Sugawara appeared behind him.
“I will not.”
But when everyone turned away, Yamaguchi caught it—
That tiny, quiet smile he thought Tsukishima wasn’t capable of.
And yeah, maybe Karasuno had discovered something wild that week—
That behind all the sarcasm and deadpan attitude…
Tsukishima Kei really could be soft—for someone sweet enough, not to even realize how much he loved them.
Especially you.
I love 2D mens<3.LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
Don't steal,copy,edit or use my works in any form without my permission.
yn is light mode, omi is dark mode | tw—swearing, smd joke, ooc characters, yn and kageyama plotting
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♫⋆- spaghetti by lesserafim | yn's trend (let's imagine the msby4 are behind her while she danced mid practice)
GO! ★ MASTERLIST
fun facts
— akaashi was indeed impressed yn was not fired
— sakusa literally frowned while watching her dance, that got the views
— hinata called yn miss intern for like two days straight
— after sakusa told her, yn hated that she actually went to her michael jackson playlist to listen it
— sakusa muttered pest, when yn was filming her silly dancing video
taglist is open | @galaneiaeris @k4ss11333 @raebaebears @wolffmaiden @ottocre @bertqut1 @allyium @tlissablr @risagichi @honeyfewr
genre(s): heavy on the crack and fluff, dumb and dumber, ushiwaka is dense but loveable! childhood bsf to lovers! yay! sunshine! rainbows! candy!
warning(s): nothing, implied fem reader for fluency's sake, but please interpret this as you'd like!! i myself am non-binary, so at the very least you know the person who's writing has you in mind!! i still tried my best to keep everything gender neutral to the best of my ability!!
wc: 1490
tldr; “boyfriend? but i thought we were already dating?”
“Wakatoshi, can I have your second button?”
Petals of blooming sakura flowers replace the grey pavement beneath your shoes with a mosaic of dusty pink as you stand beneath Shiratorizawa’s famous confession tree. It’s a ritual that has been done for many graduations before your own, students would act nonchalant as they drag their romantic prospects beneath this very tree, all to ask for their second shirt button. This year, it’s your turn, your hands clenched behind your back as you rock forward, backward, forward, backward.
“What do you mean? My second button?”
“Yeah, your second button.”
Wakatoshi’s nose twitches in confusion and under the blanket of pollen from the flowers above. What’s so special about his second button, that you’ve dragged him under the Shiratorizawa tree for? His hand shoots up, picking at the thread sewn between each hole in his second uniform button. It doesn’t budge as he picks and pulls, until finally, he rips it off with force, handing it to you between pinched fingers.
“Here.” He reaches for one of your hands, linked with the other in anxiety and anticipation, and pushes your fingers apart, before dropping the button into your palm unceremoniously. You stare blankly at the small round in your hand, then at Wakatoshi’s deadpan expression.
“Toshi, that’s…that’s not how it works.”
He tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to search your head for clues. The petals shuffle beneath your feet as you mindlessly grind your shoe into the ground, not sure what to make of this situation.
“I’m not sure what you mean. I gave you the second button, like you asked. Did I do something wrong?”
“Wakatoshi, I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? Do you hear yourself? What nonsense, what has he been to you for the past six years, if not that?
“Boyfriend? But I thought we were already dating?”
You mind empties its contents as your jaw goes slack, a dumbfounded hum escaping your windpipe. You’re not too sure- no, you have not a single idea when that idea planted itself into his head. You’ve been subtle enough, right? And careful too! No love letters, or secret gifts, or bento boxes, just day to day, regular best friend interactions between the two of you. What could have possibly gone wrong?
“Dating? Where did you get that from??”
Wakatoshi frowns, hands moving to his pockets. A spring breeze whizzes by, filling the stale air between himself and you. That’s not very nice of you. Wakatoshi knows close to nothing about relationships, but he does know one thing: You probably should remember how you got together in the first place.
“You…forgot?” After all these years of tailing behind you at grocery stores, and weekly dinners at your house, and running to your place at a text’s notice, only to end up watching dramas all night and crying with you, and you forgot that you were dating? His voice quivers, a rush of betrayal in the gleam of his eyes stabbing at your chest as he grimaces at your confused expression, then back at the second button he just ripped off his chest that sits in your hand.
“I think I would remember if we‘re dating…but we aren’t.”
“How could you forget? I still have the ring pop from that day!”
What?
“Wakatoshi, the ring pop? From sixth grade?” At the mention of the ring pop, the fuzziness of an afternoon six years ago is wiped clean. You can almost taste the disgustingly artificial grape flavour that tingled and fizzed on your tongue, before sending you into a sugar high for hours, feel the cheap plastic ring that hung a size too big from your ring finger. You’re fairly certain that the company had discontinued that line of ring pops by now, the two pack too costly of a production for the cheap price they sold for in convenience stores.
“Yeah! I asked you to be my girlfriend with the second pop, and you said yes! You even wore the ring on your ring finger!”
His hands leave his pockets now, pointing accusingly at your ring finger that lacks a humorously large plastic ring. You’re not sure whether to be shocked or to laugh hysterically, not when Wakatoshi’s accusations of your…infidelity? are rooted in the sanctity and candour of a discontinued ring pop, until it all hits you at once. All the nights that he would drop off bags of groceries at your doorstep, your mother gleaming at his persistent service, and the afternoons of watching his volleyball trainings, his eyes glancing at you for approval at every legal point he makes, all the little times that led up to your eventual confession weren’t “best friend interactions.”
They were the actions of a boyfriend. A boyfriend, who (rightfully so) thought he was dating his girlfriend.
“Toshi…did it never occur to you that we’ve done absolutely NOTHING in all these years of ‘dating’? I mean, wouldn’t you have wanted to, I dunno, hold my hand? Or like, kiss me?”
Wakatoshi jolts backwards by an inch, hand travelling towards his jaw as he rubs it introspectively, trying to fan off the heat that is crawling from his chest to his neck. You stifle a giggle, before clearing your throat guiltily. No, you shouldn’t laugh at him. He’s trying his best to process the past six years of unrequited ‘dating’, how could you interrupt him? Do you have no heart, or shame?
“W-well, my dad’s always taught me not to do anything with anyone, partner or not, unless they asked for it first… and you never asked to. So, I never did.” He finally responds, as confidently as his stuttering voice could seem. “Besides, I assumed you weren’t the type of person to be into super-romantic dating, so I just never questioned it.”
You shake your head, smiling at the ground as you take a step towards him. Your hand grips his uniform button by your side, afraid that it might get lost in the petals if you drop it. Wakatoshi’s head darts from left to right, as if piecing together red herrings on a cork board, pinning down every interaction from sixth grade to now with thumbtacks as the strings tangle and twist.
“What about our drama nights? Was that also just being best friends?”
“Yes, Wakatoshi. That is what best friends do.”
“The grocery runs?”
“You offered to do them, and I assumed it was because you were always training late and wanted to help a friend out on the way home.”
“And the weekly dinners at your place?”
“We’re neighbours!”
You watch him groan, his face shoved into his now clammy palms. This is information overload, and Wakatoshi’s processor is melting down in front of your very eyes. He shakes his head frantically, his hair becoming disheveled. His hands run through his green locks, and land on his hips as his feet tap at the petal-covered ground.
“So, we have not been dating for six years, but you want to start dating from today onwards?”
"That is exactly what I'm asking."
Finally. He’s finally got it. The button weighs heavy in your hand, and you duck beneath his face to look him in the eye. He glances away, visibly repulsed by his embarrassment. He should've caught the signs...well, earlier. It somehow has never occured to him that a ring pop proposal might not be the most legitimate way to one's heart, and it certainly has never occured to him that it might have come off as an ingenuine attempt at securing a relationship.
"I meant it when I gave you the ring pop though."
Your face morphs into an effortless smile, the towering boy looking more timid than he ever has before. You haven't changed one bit since the day he's 'proposed' to you, from the smile lines that adorn your face, to the little pout of your lips when you grin. And as you look at him, eyes shimmering under the shade of the infamous Shiratorizawa confession tree, Wakatoshi is twleve years old again, missing a canine tooth on the top right side of his toothbed. He's pinching a long discontinued ring pop between both thumbs and index fingers, getting down on one bandaged knee earnestly to pop the big question.
"Will you be my girlfriend?"
And suddenly, you're twelve years old, standing right there, in front of him, tiny hands covering your mouth as you gasp and tell him yes, a million times over and more. Wakatoshi is 5'2 here, a whole foot shorter than his now eighteen year old self, slotting a ring pop that's two sizes too big on your ring finger, the candy diamond shimmering in the sunlight on the walk home. Except now, the ring pop has transformed into the second button of his soon to be forgotten Shiratorizawa shirt, residing in your clenched fist.
"I know. I know you did."
His eyes refocus as he snaps out of his thoughts, and he wonders if you still have the plastic ring from the ring pop, the one that means to him doing groceries for your household before his own, and showing up at your door to watch dramas all night in your bed, and helping your parents with the cooking before your weekly dinners. His eyes soften, the probing frown long gone from his face as he returns your smile with his own, cheeks pink and teeth threatening to show through his suppressed grin.
"Does this mean I get to kiss you now?"
"Yes, Toshi. Yes it does."
His hands spare no time to cup your face, pulling it up to his own as his fingers draw lines across your cheekbones. Wakatoshi's brain bursts in sparks of gold and red, and he genuinely ponders how he has lived until now without ever doing this once. He pulls away, unsure what else to do after, before sneezing in your face.
"Sorry, pollen, gross."
"Let's get out of here then, quick."
You grab his hand in your own, another sensation he isn't sure how he's lived without until now, and pull him away from the tree as you run to the school exit. He jogs behind you, and you turn around, your fingers interlocked with each other's.
"By the way, happy sixth anniversary, Toshi!"
author's note:
@catsoupki here's your long overdue ushiwaka prompt baby i hope you like you like ;P i had so much fun writing this omg i cracked myself AND my sister up like twenty times running her through what my plan was LMAOO
i too need ushiwaka btw i actually love him SO MUCH it's not funny anymore I NEED HIM SBSBSBSBSB the only other fic i have of him is genuinely some of the worst situations i've put any haikyuu character in recently so i have to treat him to a good one here ofc
Hi bbyyy! I love your works so much, i’ve never requested or talked 2 someone over the inbox or wtv, just wondering if you’d make a haikyuu one shot with Kenma? Anything fluffy and cute. Sorry for the yap sesh, love youuu💖💖
hiii tysm for requestingggg ily n hope you enjoy 💗 fluff!!
kitty co-parents
kozume kenma x gn!reader. fluff, crack
“oh. my. god,” you stated, your words causing the seemingly stoic guy from your class to jump out of his skin as he turned, eyes wide and face flushed after getting caught. you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “you!”
kenma scrambled to his feet, accidentally dropping the small bag of cat treats he’d been holding. “i, um.. me…?”
the kitten jumped up, resting its paws against the side of the blanket-covered cardboard box. you’d been coming to see it every day after school, bringing food and water since you weren’t allowed to bring it home.
recently, you noticed a strange amount of toys and other treats appearing in the box. you had some tutoring sessions and group work that had you leaving later than usual, but still made a point of visiting the kitten. you wondered who could possibly have found the box you’d do expertly hidden (you tucked it beneath the covered awning behind a shutdown bakery).
“okay, look,” you said, propping your hands on your hips as you nodded toward the treats on the floor with your chin. “this just won’t do. we need rules if we’re going to be co-parenting shiki.”
kenma blinked at you. “shi.. who are you?”
you clutched your chest in disbelief—pained disbelief. “y/n? i’ve been in your class since the third grade?”
from the stare kenma had on you, you knew he did not remember sitting behind you the past two years.
ticking your jaw, you settled with propping your hands angrily against your jutted hips. forget the co-partnering scheme. “whatever! what are you doing with my cat?!”
kenma looked genuinely confused as he turned his head between you and the kitten, who was still struggling to pull itself from the box. “your cat?”
“yes, my… shiki!” you called, and the cat’s eyes flicked in your direction, meowing in a way that alerted he was hungry. “see?” you declared, letting your bag drop from your shoulders so you could retrieve the food packets you left inside.
in your peripheral, you noticed kenma staring. then, quietly, “apple.”
immediately, the cat looked at him and gave the same meow you’d received just seconds before. you blinked down at him as kenma shot you a grin that looked oddly painful. “see?”
it was official. your cat was parent-cheating on you.
aghast, you ripped the thin plastic lid off of the food and carefully placed it in the box with shiki. you watched him eat, eyes filled with horror. “you… betrayed me…”
kenma was snickering beside you, still crouching in front of the box with his knees to his chest and arms wrapped securely around them. though you hated him, the quiet sparkle in his eyes as he watched shiki-apple eat made something flutter behind your ribs.
clearing your throat, you straightened your shoulders and stuck a hand out toward him. kenma eyed it suspiciously. “what.”
“i’m striking a deal. we co-parent shapple here since clearly neither of us are allowed to bring pets home.”
kenma’d raised a brow at “shapple” but didn’t interrupt until you finished. he paused for a moment, debating your words, before reaching out and allowing you to clasp his hand. you ignored how warm his skin was against your palm and shook once.
“then, we’ll need to make a schedule,” he began after a moments hesitation, slipping his hand from your grasp. “i have volleyball practice after school on tuesdays and thursdays.”
that matched up with your tutoring surprisingly well. “okay. i tutor mondays and wednesdays. here, give me your number, and we’ll work out a plan for fridays and the weekend. it’s crazy we never ran into each other until just now!”
kenma reluctantly handed over his phone, eyes never straying from the device as you typed your number in and saved your contact with a 🐈 emoji beside your name. he practically snatched it from you when you handed it back.
“okay… i like to play games on the weekends, but i can come friday,” he announced slowly, and you shrugged in agreement since you didn’t live too far away.
“works for me. this will be a temporary relationship until we find a home for shapple, though. it’s getting colder and i don’t want to leave him outside…” you bit the inside of your cheek when you finished.
kenma blinked at you before slowly, awkwardly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “um. we will.”
you rolled your eyes but didn’t brush his hand away, even though it barely touched you. standing, you watched kenma’s hand fall before offering yours to him once again. he didn’t hesitate as long this time to grab it and squeaked when you pulled him to his feet. “upsy-daisy!”
you watched kenma brush himself off before you said, “he’ll be fine until breakfast. see ya in class tomorrow, partner!”
kenma watched you go, cheeks flushed as he recounted the encounter, until you disappeared until tomorrow.
Thinking about Pro!Wakatoshi who hears Tobio talking about shaving his legs for Japan's upcoming game in the Olympics.
He overheard Shoyo and Tobio squabble over the idea that it would make you more aerodynamic and so Waka decided to try it out for himself.
He uses a regular mens razor, fresh from the packet though so it's extra sharp.
Wakatoshi walks out of the bathroom into the main space of your hotel room, where your sprawled on the bed scrolling on your phone.
He walks out with a satisfied look on his face, perhaps even proud of himself. What he doesn't notice however, is that the second he turned off the shower his legs started bleeding.
Profusely.
You lift your head up to see your pro player boyfriend all his 6'3 glory, absolutely smothered in blood from the waist down.
"Toshi..."
You spend the next thirty minutes patching up his legs and pointing out spots that he couldn't reach or missed completely.
This man left the back of his thighs entirely unshaven btw.
And yes, it was noticeable. Very noticeable.
Ushijima Wakatoshi competes in the Olympics the next day with bandaids plastered all over his legs. The press goes insane trying to figure out what happened.
You sit, giggling in your front row seat by the court with a stupidly large grin on your face.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀
a/n: This man is so silly I cannot
All works are owned by @ lintobln - please do not copy, edit or plagiarize ♡
fluff, crack, nsfw, dating headcanons, him being down bad for you
A/N: Sorry about the wait ml
Pre-Dating ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Laughs a little too hard at your jokes. Immediately embarrassed. Thinks he is “doing too much”.
• Tries to be useful as a love language, holding things, grabbing snacks, offering help before you ask.
• Gets visibly flustered when you compliment him. Stutters, looks away, but carries it with him all day.
• Confession is awkward and heartfelt. Voice shaking, hands clenched, but painfully sincere. Fully expects rejection or you asking about Tsukishima. Is completely stunned if you say yes.
Dating - SFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Extremely affectionate once he’s comfortable. Clingy in the sweetest way, always wants to be touching you somehow.
• Big on reassurance. Needs it, gives it, thrives on it. You both get softer together.
• Loves quiet dates: walks, cafés, staying in and watching something low-stakes.
• Gets excited planning small surprises. Nothing flashy, your favorite snack, a note in your bag, a playlist he made quietly.
• Very considerate with boundaries. Always asks before assuming. Learns quickly and adjusts even faster.
• Always checking in. “Is this okay?” “Are you comfortable?” And he genuinely listens. He will never make you stay uncomfortable.
• Protective but not possessive. Stands a little taller when you’re with him, thinks you give him strength.
• Keeps sentimental things. Tickets, notes, random objects that remind him of you. I bet you they’re the most random things too.
• If you’re stressed, he forces himself to be calm on purpose. Grounds you by being steady, even though he is freaking out internally.
• Laughs at his own jokes more when you’re around.
• Falls asleep holding you. Stays asleep that way. Wakes up relieved you’re still there. You’re his safe place. He relaxes around you in a way he doesn’t around anyone else.
• Texts you updates about his day even when nothing happened.
• Extremely attentive. Notices mood shifts before you say anything and adjusts without making it a big deal.
• Likes walking on the side closer to traffic. Pretends it’s random. It’s not.
• Walks slightly slower when he’s with you so you don’t have to adjust your pace. Notices without pointing it out.
• Hugger. Not quick hugs—lingering, full-body, grounding hugs that reset your nervous system.
• Nervous about conflict but tries anyway. Chooses honesty even when his voice shakes.
• Celebrates your wins like they’re his own. Brags about you quietly to people he trusts.
• Very considerate in shared spaces. Lowers volume, adjusts lighting, checks in constantly.
Dating - NSFW ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• Submissive in the trusting sense. He likes being guided, reassured, encouraged. Relaxes when you lead; blooms under calm direction. Will not beg you verbally, his eyes will do the talking.
• He gets affected before anything happens. The tension hits him early, fidgeting, quieter voice, attention locked on you. Loves when you make him wait. Not in a cruel way, just enough that the anticipation turns him pliant and focused.
• If you touch him casually beforehand, it throws him off completely. Takes him a second to recover. The type to wait 5 minutes at the walmart parking lot because you kissed him. iykyk
• Nervous smiles when he knows where things are heading.
• Praise-focused. Gentle encouragement turns him warm and pliant faster than teasing ever could. He doesn’t have a favorite position but he prefers to do it while he can see your face.
• Touch-starved but patient. Waits for cues, melts the moment you give them. Will hump the shit out of you if you take too long though.
• Responsive and attentive, mirrors your pace, checks your reactions, adjusts instantly. Will melt if you “use” him to make yourself feel good.
• Whispers instead of talks. Soft sounds, quiet reactions, your name said like it’s fragile.
• LOUDEST MOANER. He is NOT afraid to make noise. Makes super soft involuntary sounds when overwhelmed or overstimulated, incredibly telling, incredibly honest.
• Shy when things heat up, but never withdrawn. Quiet agreement, tries to keep steady eye contact even though he gets super shy.
• Thrives on reassurance during and after. Needs to know he did well; you make sure he knows.
• Gets bolder the more you reassure him. Confidence grows with every kind word.
• If you tell him what you like, he memorizes it. Treats it like something important.
• Responds best to encouragement over command. Gentle guidance keeps him steady and eager.
• Will look to you afterward for confirmation. Just a “keep going” will make him do what he is doing for another hour. Your approval settles him completely.
• Soft sounds, softer hands afterward. Wants closeness more than anything.
• Aftercare is non-negotiable for him—water, warmth, arms around you until everything settles.
BONUS ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
• The type to blush after instead of before. Processing takes time.
• Definitely has a sex playlist. Mostly The Weeknd.
• Very responsive to tone. You don’t need to touch him to get a reaction; a calm, confident voice does more than enough.
When the new MSBY Black Jackals's PR head comes to town, you have three rules: stay focused, stay sharp, and stay away from Miya Atsumu. From your worst nightmare at sixteen to Japan’s heartthrob, Atsumu has always attracted trouble. You're here to do your job but unbeknownst to you, the universe has other plans. So when fate sets the ball, will Atsumu be the one to receive it?
genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, pining, childhood rivals, second chance romance, humour, suggestive themes, explicit smut.
notes: 5.8k... oopsie. business trip to okinawa gone wrong lol. crack, fluff and lots of tension!!!!
series masterlist -> chapter three
Your trolley rolls behind you as you inhale the fresh Okinawa breeze, a far cry from crowded Tokyo. With a slow stretch, you lift both arms overhead, easing the tension that’s settled in your body after the long flight.
Hinata dashes past you, springing into the air. “The waves await me!”
In your peripheral vision, you see Meian chasing after him. You grin, glad to see everyone pumped and ready as you prop your hands on your hips.
Pocari Sweat, one of the team’s sponsors, in their long list of contract obligations, required the team to shoot an ad to promote their drink. And, if truth be told, you may or may not have pushed this idea instead of the other ones from the agency just because you wanted a short, fully funded trip to the beach.
The sky is a clear cloudless blue and the sun is blinding.
Sakusa falls into step beside you, uncharacteristically, pulling his mask down and letting out a hum.
You turn to him, “Ready for the shoot?”
He nods, “I studied the script extra hard last night to get some free time to buy extra wipes.”
Your brows furrow in confusion, “Wipes?”
Sakusa’s face turns solemn as if he’s seen a ghost. “Yes…” he begins.
“Public…” A few moments pass, and he looks like he’s gathering the courage to complete his sentence.
“Sand.”
You sigh, “Of course,” agreeing for his sake.
Sakusa was a germaphobe, and you may have pushed that thought to the back of your head when you approved this script.
You almost rub your hands together super villain style when you think of all the good bts footage you’ll get to film of the team’s antics for their socials.
“Stop being a little wuss,” Atsumu calls out from behind.
“We’re playing beach volleyball,”
Atsumu shoots both his fists inwards in a macho motion, surpassing both of you as he finishes his sentence in a backwards jog to the van.
Sakusa scrunches his eyebrows in annoyance before mumbling something along the lines of needing to exterminate Atsumu.
The inn is beautiful with old Japanese architecture and even an onsen within.
The team settles at the seating area behind you and Bokuto and Hinata high five every time they get offered a welcome snack while you and the manager check in for the rest of the team.
From the team, it was just you, Miwa their manager, and an assistant trainer, tagging along. Your job was simple, keep the boys out of trouble till you touchdown in Tokyo.
Easy enough, you had thought to yourself.
Your room is traditionally japanese with sliding doors and tatami mats, you drop your purse to the floor and make a move to open the window. With fingers at the rim, you lean out to take in the view and waiting for you is a beautiful blue horizon, an expanse of buildings that eventually meets the sea and a cloudless sky. You smile, what a perfect day.
Throwing on a pair of linen shorts and a sleeveless blouse paired with sandals, you nod at your outfit, the perfect mix of work, beach and casual before grabbing a pair of sunglasses and a sunhat to protect yourself from the blazing sun.
You haven’t made much contact with Atsumu since you agreed to his favour and you’ve chosen to not pay much thought to it. This arrangement confused you, why did Astumu have no date to the gala and who was this mystery date before you? You shouldn’t care and you don’t, you tell yourself but every now and then curiosity gets the best of you and you have to go for a run to beat these thoughts down.
***
“MIC!”
“CHECK!”
The camera and production crew are a serious looking bunch, dressed in black on this perfect sunny day at the beach, Pocari sweat means business.
The boys just finished their hair and makeup and you watch them get into position by the volleyball net as the camera crew prepares to shoot. You’ve slid off your sandals, taking to hold them in your hand to feel the warm sand between your toes, slowly sliding your heels in.
Atsumu is dressed in a pair of trunks and a tightly fitting tee. He looks good, flushed under the sun with a shirt so form fitting that he might as well take it off and you put in a conscious effort to not look his way.
“Stop!” the director calls out, irritatedly.
“Hinata, stop making that face!” Miwa, their manager exclaims, slapping a palm against her forehead.
Shoto’s face is scrunched in possibly the most unappealing way with his mouth ajar and nostrils flared.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to feeling like I have something on my face.” Hinata mutters, poking at his cheek.
“It feels really weird.” he slumps his shoulders.
The director shouts for a retake and the boys get back into their designated spots. Bokuto pats Hinata on the shoulder.
“A pro should get used to this.”
New found grit enters Hinata’s eyes, “What do you mean Bokuto - san?”
Bokuto puffs out his chest like he’s about to deliver ancient wisdom.
“I mean, Hinata… a real pro has to endure anything for the camera. Sand in your shorts? Weird sunscreen? A crab staring into your soul? You gotta power through it!”
Atsumu, from the side, snorts. “Crab starin’ into your soul? Really?”
“YES!” Bokuto exclaims, completely serious. “Last summer’s shoot, I had to pose with a seagull on my shoulder! Do you know how scary that is?! It could’ve PECKED MY EYE OUT.”
Hinata blinks. “…But you still looked cool, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto grins, thumbs up. “Exactly! That’s the pro spirit! Let’s crush this shoot!!”
Atsumu snorts, throwing in, “Don’t worry, Hinata, I’ll hold your hand if the makeup gets to ya.”
“Shut up, Atsumu!” Hinata snaps, face red.
A few steps away by the crew, you huff pinching the bridge of your nose at their combined IQ of ten.
The director sighs. “Can we please just roll the cameras already?”
Hinata dramatically dashes across the sand to save a volleyball. The camera follows his movements as he dives with full energy as per the script. You nervously bite at your fingers, hoping they’ve read the script enough to not screw up.
“PUSH YOUR LIMITS!” the voiceover from the speaker screams.
Cueing the next shot, the camera pans.
“YAHHH” Bokuto yells (not in the script), spewing sand everywhere as he launches off in a spike like motion, smacking the ball with olympic athlete power and leaving a cloud of sand dust.
Your eyes widen in horror. It all happens like a slow-motion soap opera scene. The ball hits the camera lens in a loud thud, knocking the director off his chair. A black suspicious mass flies off his head, landing on Hinata with a plop.
Your jaw drops, It’s a wig.
A beat of silence passes before the team turns to chaos. The crew rushes to help their screaming director off the sand, Bokuto is yelling apologies with his head in his hands and Hinata is standing as still as a statue, still in shock.
Atsumu is holding the sides of his stomach, vibrating in an attempt to hold his laughter.
“There’s no way..” he mutters through heavily stiffened giggles before Miean kicks him from behind.
You groan, there’s no way you’ve been put in charge of these dumbasses. You’re about to signal Hinata to pass you the wig when you hear a shutter clicking behind you.
The chaos attracted a chattering crowd of onlookers who have started recording.
Shit, shit, shit.
You take a sharp breath, straightening your posture. It’s time for PR head crisis mode.
“Excuse me!” you say, clapping your hands, loud, authoritative. A few heads turn.
You step forward, putting on your brightest fake smile. “This was an exclusive shoot for a confidential campaign. So I’m going to kindly ask everyone to delete any recordings. We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise now, would we?”
Some people lower their phones, unsure. You press on.
“And hey…” you lean, voice dropping to a stage whisper, “I’m sure the brand will reward the fans who cooperate. I can even give you some early merch samples if you delete them now. Deal?”
The security team follows through, shutting down anyone that continues to film and the crowd begins to awkwardly fumble their phones before putting them back in.
You breathe a tiny sigh of relief. Crisis… mostly averted.
Mostly.
Because behind you, the disaster is still very much unfolding.
Bokuto is on his knees now.
“I”VE RUINED EVERYTHING!”
“No, Bokuto-san,” Hinata says numbly, staring blankly at the wig in his hands. “ We ruined everything.”
“Oh my god,” Atsumu can’t seem to hold down his laughter anymore and even Sakusa shockingly walks up to the doomed duo, “That was quite indignant.”
Bokuto’s cries become louder.
“Enough, you guys.” Miean commands. “We still have a shoot to continue.”
You turn to glance at the fuming director before nervously chuckling, “Do we?”
But luckily enough, after a few apologetic conversations with the Director and a few comments from you on how bald men are hotter anyways (lie), the shoot started rolling again.
You're glued to your tablet, double-checking the revised shot list, silently praying nothing else implodes today when out of the corner of your eye, Atsumu is casually stretching his arms behind his head as he talks to Inunaki. He laughs at something, and after a while his gaze flickers toward you for just a beat too long mid conversation.
You quickly look back at your tablet. Nope. Not engaging. You have work to do.
Thankfully this time, Bokuto spikes the ball into the sand instead of the director and you breathe a small sigh of relief.
Sakusa picks up a bottle of Pocari sweat, holding a volleyball against his torso before delivering his final lines,
“For the team and for the game… stay at your best.”
The camera pans out to the entire team flashing celebrity grins at the lens.
“With Pocari Sweat!” they say in unison.
You cringe internally, thanking god for their good looks to pull this script off.
“And that’s a wrap!”
You let out a sigh of relief, putting your hands together to join the round of applause before making your way to the other crew members, shaking everyone’s hand individually to thank them for the good work.
It’s around evening now and the sun isn’t ablaze. The sky is a shade of pale indigo and the breeze that runs through your hair is cooler. The crew is almost done wrapping up and the team is sprawled out on the sand.
“Who would have thought that this would be harder than playing an actual match.” Atsumu complains, arms and legs spread like a starfish.
Oliver adds a half hearted mumbled agreement.
“They seem tired eh?” Miwa’s voice is light and tired from the day’s work and she's sitting crosslegged beside you on the sand.
You hum before getting up and grabbing a crate of Pocari Sweat.
“May I interest you in some post game hydration?” you tease, leaning the crate of beverages towards the tired heap of MSBY members.
Inunaki groans, “I don’t even want to look at it.”
Hinata reaches for a bottle, “I’m beat.” before you distribute a bottle each to the boys.
You try not meet Atsumu’s gaze, he’s been watching you ever since you picked up that crate of Pocari to approach them.
“What about me?” he asks, arms propping him up.
“Here.” You’re hyperaware of how his eyes follow your movements as you pick up a bottle to pass it to him. He reaches for the bottle, your fingers brush through his and waves of electricity shoot through your body. You pause, his gaze remains fixed with an unreadable expression before he takes the bottle, taking a large swig of the beverage. You retract your hand, confused while the rest of the boys go back to their nonsensical chatter.
“Guys!” Miwa calls out clapping her hands from a couple feet away. “it’s time to wrap up.”
“Nooo,” Bokuto groans, followed by Hinata who is then followed by Atsumu and Oliver.
“C’mon, we barely go out like this.” Atsumu reasons.
Even Meian the voice of reason chimes in, “could we stay for another half an hour?”
Miwa folds her arms, “you guys have an early flight tomorrow, you know that right?”
“And I need you guys to be on top of your game at practice too.” the assistant trainer adds from the background in a Hawaiin shirt, relaxed in a foldable chair that you wonder where he got from.
“Of course,” Hinata adds in mock salute, followed by Bokuta who is then followed by the rest of the team except for Sakusa who is somehow also on a foldable chair a few steps away from you all.
You let out a sigh before shaking your head and shooting Miwa a pleading smile.
“Fine, but only thirty minutes, yeah?”
The guys hoot in cheers. “Lets race to the sea!”
Hinata and Bokuto get off the sand before rushing to horizon, pushing eachother and stumbling on the way.
The rest of the team follow suite, tripping over themselves before taking off to the sea and just as Atsumu gets up to join them, he turns to look your way. He’s grinning and though you’ve seen his shit eating grin multiple times before, this time it’s light and if you knew any better, with a hint of mischief.
“How are you with water?”
“I mean I don’t mind it.” You begin, confused at his inquiry. “ Wait, Why-”
But before you get to finish your question, his hand is already wrapped around your wrist, tugging you with him.
Your confusion falls on to deaf ears and your feet seem to have a mind of their own, matching Atsumu’s pace. His giggles fill the air as you both make a dash into the ocean.
The water is cold and sends waves of shocks into your body as you Astumu pulls you in with him, dropping your hand. You gasp at the icy sea cascading at your waist before snapping your head to your perpetrator. Your cotton shorts are under water with the rest of the lower half of your body, you did not particularly dress for the ocean. You’re angry, you tell yourself. Miya at the ripe age of twenty five pulled you into the ocean with him.
“Atsumu!” you chastise but you’re smiling and your attempt to sound strict drips into the rest of the ocean.
“Y/N?” Hinata glees. The rest of the boys turn to you in surprise.
Miean shakes his head fondly before mumbling something about Atsumu being a dumbass and Bokuto laughs, shooting a fist in the air.
You give in, mischievous giggles tumbling from your lips before turning to Atsumu and splashing him with freezing sea water as revenge.
Atsumu shrieks dumbfounded, “TIS WATER’S SO COLDD- AHH”
Your chest roars with laughter.
“WATER FIGHT!” Oliver calls out brightily.
The guys plunge their arms into the sea, swishing and splattering water at eachother.
And despite the icy salt water being launched at him with his hands covering his face in attempt to block some of it, Atsumu is laughing. Large breathy laughs leave his lips and as he stumbles in futile attempts to defend himself. Leaned over, his arms up in a cross in an attempt to block his face but his features were radiating with water dripping down his neck and face. You couldn’t help but pause for a second. But a second was all Atsumu needed to turn the tables on you. A large wave of water splashes into you, you curse his athlete reach. The splashes are unrelenting and you shut your eyes to avoid the saltwater from going in.
Moving forward to splash him back, you lose your footing. Your foot slides off an ambiguous surface, pushing you forward and just as you’re about to brace for impact into the chilly water, a pair of arms secure you around your waist.
You peek a lid open, confused as to why you’re still above sea level and find Atsumu’s gaze boring down on you. Your breath hitches in your throat and his eyes are calm with a foreign intensity.
“Sorry,” you mumble, scrambling back to your feet.
Atsumu hesitates, scratching his neck. “ya alright?”
You avert his gaze, nodding but you're finding it difficult to speak with his hands still gripping your waist. Looking down at the point of contact, you clear your throat. He drops his arms back to his sides. Your clothes are soaked and your hair is nestled at your shoulders, water dripping down your neck. With your gaze fixed downward, Atsumu is still infront of you, unmoving and you wonder what expression he’s wearing right now. You look up finally, mouth agape to say something when Miwa calls from the shore.
“Time’s up guys!”
You look towards the source of the sound instinctively.
“We better get going,” Atsumu hums quietly before passing you, walking out of the water and leaving you behind him.
***
You realised the hard way that Japanese Ryokan’s , don’t work the same way as your regular run of the mill hotel. You’ve always had the habit of sleeping with at least two pillows under your neck for support because of your tendency for acute migraines. A flat head rest somehow being a trigger for your disposition. So when the your futon came with almost a thin sheet of cotton for a pillow, you turned your room upside down for the landline to call housekeeping.
Failing to find one, you slide on a pair of slippers and groggily make your way to the reception, still clad in your Hello Kitty Pajamas.
You make your way down the stairs and wooden hallway to find an old lady seated at the desk.
She’s leaned back into her chair with her arms folded and when you squint, you realise her eyes are shut in a slumber.
You approach the desk, "excuse me,” you whisper with a hand curved at the side of your face.
You blink, she doesn’t budge, a few snores escape her.
Persisting, “Hello?” you whisper but this time a few decibels louder. She tilts her head ever so slightly, eyes still closed before drooping once again. This is awkward.
“Ma’am,” you try slightly nudging at her shoulder, anticipating failure but this time the old lady awakens in a loud gasp as if she were having war flashbacks.
You jump back, “I’m so so sorry, it’s just that-”
“Whaddya want?” she snarls.
“I needed an extra pillow,” you say apologetically.
She opens a wooden drawer at the desk and tosses you a pair of keys. You catch them confused and also equally bewildered at the pissed old lady.
“Storage room is the second room to the left.”
“Oh,” you look at the rusty keys in your hand, making a mental note to not book a ryokan again.
And as you look up to thank her, she’s already asleep with her arms folded and head drooping.
You trudge down the wooden halls, murmuring “second room to the left” as you walk.
You notice a wooden door that looks slightly more distinguished than the rest before poking a key in, trying your luck. The door unlocks in a click, opening to a tiny storage room. Your fingers fumble for the light switches and a single yellow bulb flickers on. The room looks dusty and old, and a tad but creepy with barely any walking space as you rummage in search of the pillows to quickly get the hell out.
Your body is fueled with relief when you find them stacked under a few mattresses. “Ah,” you silently cheer to yourself before tugging at one, it doesn't budge.
You tug again, still not budging.
Strange.
“Need help with that?” A voice from behind you makes you jolt in surprise.
Miya Atsumu. Your nose scrunches in disgust almost out of reflex.
“Wow, that’s rude.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. He’s against the door frame leaning an elbow to prop himself, his other hand in his sweatpants’s pocket.
“Why are you here?” you ask, turning once again to make failed attempts in pulling out your dear pillow.
Atsumu snorts, “I came ‘ere to get another blanket,” He raises a brow at you continuing to tug at the pillow with your back facing him before he continues, “Ma feet kept stickin out.”
You don't reply, instead you huff, readjusting your feet firmly on the ground before attempting at another pull. Exasperated at the sheer weight of the endless stack of futon’s on top of it.
Behind you Atsumu is rolling his eyes. “Ignoring me won’t make me go away.”
The last thing you needed or wanted at 12 am was to bicker. Being a fully working and contributing member of society, you didn’t hate Atsumu that much . Especially when the light got in the cracks and he’d act more human than he was ever programed to. You hated that he ran hot and cold instead. Almost as if when he realised that he wasn’t at absolute arse today, he’d need to take an epipen.
“Oh what was that?” your words are laced with sarcasm and if Atsumu rolled his eyes anymore, they’d probably get lost at the back of his head.
“Stubborn women ‘re really unattractive, ya know that, right?” he says lazily.
This time you roll your eyes, “I’d rather die an old cat lady than attract a man that is even remotely similar to you.”
“Geez,” he says a tad bit surprised before regaining his usual aloof composure, a smirk plastered across his lips again.
“Need that pillow for the stick up yer-”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
A few seconds pass in silence before Atsumu sighs loudly.
“Can ya just move?” His brows are knit between his forehead now. “I could have gotten my blanket and helped you with your pillow,” He checks his watch. “Five minutes ago.”
Something about this statement makes you take on the challenge. “No, I can get this pillow out just fine.” You grunt. “On my own.”
Atsumu throws his head back in annoyance and groans, slapping a hand over his eyes.
He moves over and kneels beside you and you hear a faint click
You stop in your tracks. The wooden door is shut behind you.
No. This can’t be.
You stuff your hands in the pockets of your pink Hello Kitty shorts in search of the rusty metal.
You gulp, “It isn’t there.”
Atsumu looks at you annoyed, standing back up and towering over you. “What are ya talkin about?”
“The key.” You look up at him. “It’s still in the door.”
Atsumu make’s an exasperated sound, “You overreact to everything,” He moves his hand to the door handle, “I’m sure it’ll open just fine.” he says, waving you off.
The handle doesn’t budge. His brows furrow, “I’m sure it will-” he murmurs, flickering his gaze between you and the door.
He tries again. The door doesn’t move.
Atsumu gulps with his fingers still wrapped around the handle before he chuckles nervously.
“Third time’s the charm.”
Atsumu positions his feet strongly before yanking at the handle with all his athlete power.
“Wait Miya, no-”
But before your voice of reason reaches him, Atsumu falls to the ground in a thud, the door still hasn’t seemed to budge. But, you have a new problem now.
Your hands fly to your head and you groan. “You idiot.”
“Have some empathy,” he snaps, rubbing the side of his hip until he realises that his right hand might be grasping onto something.
You watch the puzzle pieces fall in his empty head when he slowly brings his palm up.
Yeah, Atsumu just broke the door handle.
***
“Oh my god we’re going to die here.”
You’re pacing the tiny storage room in circles with a hand at your chin in a state of deep thought and Atsumu has taken to sitting in the corner of the room with his elbows placed on his knees, observing you.
It’s been an hour since the both of you got locked in and Atsumu has gone from “hey, I’m sure they’ll get us” to contemplating whether he has contributed to the world in ways that are meaningful in his short but full life.
He is inarguably the worst person to be caught in a predicament like this with.
You flail your phone up in the air for the millionth time with your brows furrowed in concentration, clicking your tongue in annoyance when the screen still reads No signal .
“You’ve done that a hundred times,” Atsumu’s cheek is smushed against top of his hands, in a fetal position.
You shoot him a mean look, “Well, I can’t help it. Considering that only one of us is competent enough to do something.”
He rolls his eyes, “We’re in this because of you in the first place.”
You inhale sharply, “I’m not the idiot that broke the door handle!”
“I’m not the idiot that left the key in this clealry ancient lock.” he snaps back and you bite the inside of your mouth in irritation before mumbling, “whatever.”
“Do you have any other bright ideas to help?” you grumble at the floor.
The singular light bulb hanging above the both of you flickers and you look up and gulp. Yeah, you can't stay here any longer.
“There must be no guests staying at this floor considerin ain’t no one heard us.” Atsumu gets off the floor, dusting the back of his sweatpants. He places his hands decisively at his hips.
Your head is starting to hurt a bit now, you check the time on your phone. “Our flight leaves in 4 hours.”
You nervously bite at your lip, considering it isn’t tourist season, there are not a lot of flights flying back and you nor the team’s star setter can afford to miss this one.
“By the time they realise we’re gone it’ll be too late.” Atsumu murmurs, now too in thought.
You rub your temples with your middle and index finger at both sides in contemplation and slight pain. Your long day at the beach was finally catching up to you. The skin at the soles of your feet were aching along with your calves and other parts of your leg. The team would probably only note of your absence when they’re all packed up and checking out to leave. You wrack your brain with some sort of solution and Atsumu watches you with his head tilted before he softly sighs.
“Stop wearing yerself out.”
You perk up, snapping out of your trance.
“From where i’m seein it, we probably gotta wait till the mornin.” he says carefully.
Stress washes over your face, your eyebrows knitting in the center of your forehead.
“I can’t believe I let this happen.” you bury your face into your hands in frustration.
“Hey, hey,” Atsumu’s tone is cautious. “It’s no biggie, I’m sure we’ll be able catch another flight by tonight.” he says lightly with hints of made up optimism.
“You think so?” Atsumu’s features momentarily soften at you. You're looking at him with no bite in your eyes, just an uncharacteric need for reassurance.
He pauses for a bit and then replies. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.”
You relax a bit, tension from your jaw and eyebrows dissipating in small amounts.
A few beats pass before his features fall to his usual visage. He squints his eyes at you cockily, “Aren’t ya supposed to be good at crisis management?” Atsumu smirks.
“PR head-chan?”
Your short termed genuinety snaps shut instantly.
You open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, lifting an accusatory finger at him when the above head bulb shakes.
The teeny room is bathed in dim warm light from a bulb that’s hanging above the both of you, tethered by a thin wire and for a moment you’re sure you just saw something move.
“What was that?” Atsumu squints his eyes, looking up.
“You noticed that too?” Your heart rate begins to pick up a little bit, glancing upward at the bulb.
“I’m sure it was nothing.” you mumble mostly to soothe yourself until you hear a squeak.
Every muscle under your skin freezes and the hairs on your skin stands in alert. Atsumu’s eyes are blown wide meeting yours that have reacted similarly.
You slowly and carefully turn your head to the source of the sound at the dusty shelves that have been there for god knows how long when you meet eyes with a grey furry creature.
“What the fuck!” Atsumu shrieks. Reacting to the loud sound, the startled rat jumps off the shelf, lurching towards you.
You jump, screaming profanities. Your hands find Atsumu’s chest pushing him out of the way, ducking just in time. He falls to the ground on his ass in a large thump and you fall a few centimetres shy from him on all fours. The rat pauses three feet behind you, probably in contemplation of what’s going on. Atsumu’s features are a mix of shocked, bewildered and confused.
“UP, UP, UP!” you scream, scrambling to your feet, Atsumu follows your orders hastily.
“WE NEED TO GET TO HIGH GROUND!” You point to a stack of cardboard boxes that unfortunately have enough room for only one pair of feet. You look back to find the rat pacing towards you and a piercing scream rips through your throat.
Just in time, Atsumu grabs your hand pulling you up with his other one firmly gripping onto your waist, already on the elevated platform.
At the height of two cardboard boxes you watch the cursed furry creature make circles around the both of you like a shark circling its prey.
Atsumu’s body is almost flush against your’s with his hand still at your waist, your mind too preoccupied to notice or care. You press both hands at your chest, “Oh my god, oh my god.”
Atsumu’s unsteady breaths are mixed with yours as you anxiously and unconsciously huddle a little closer to him.
His grip tightens.
The rat stops in its tracks, resting on it’s hindlegs and if you didn’t know any better you would think that it was in deep in thought. It then scrams into a dark corner under a shelf, out of your sight.
You breathe a sigh of relief finally looking up to meet Atsumu’s eye.
His skin looks like it’s been drained of blood and all the life force that makes it, looking almost if not more tortured than you.
You snort.
“You have absolutely no right to be the one laughin!” he hisses softly in case the creature comes back.
You roll your eyes at him and maybe at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation. Miya Atsumu, standing at 6 '2 in all his pro athlete glory is latched onto you, steady on a cardboard box in a dusty storage room, terrified of a rat.
You bite the inside of your cheek stifling a giggle but when you open your mouth to pull his leg, become increasingly aware of the lack of distance between your bodies and the calloused palm at the fabric of your hello kitty jumper. Your mind does a few sommersaults and suddenly your tongue feels dry, devoid of your usual jabs.
Oh .
It may be best to strictly speak of the matter at hand instead.
“Did you see the fucking size of that thing!” you whisper with faux ease.
“Not exactly,” He squints his eyes at you. “ Was pushin me really necessary?”
“You were in the way!”
“Well, ya could’ve just ducked!” he whisper-argues.
“Well, you shouldn’t have startled it in the first place!” you retort, still whispering, pressing a finger into his chest.
Atsumu repeats your sentence mockingly like an eight year old, making talking gestures with his free hand. “ Well ya shouldn’t have startled it in the first place ”
Your jaw drops in disbelief. This is a twenty five year old man, by the way. You press the heels of your palm into either sides of your head and screw your lids shut, “Miya, you fuckin-”
There’s a squeak.
No.
There’s a symphony of squeaks.
You stop mid sentence, eyes widening. You look up and Atsumu is absolutely horrified.
This time, he screams first.
“RATS! PLURAL! RATS!!”
Your head snaps down and there are not two, not three but five gigantic rats scurrying out from under the shelf. The screech that leaves you is blood curdling as you instinctively wrap your hands around his neck and jump onto him. You wrap your legs around his waist, gazed fixed at the furry monstrosities in terror. Atsumu hesitates but you begin to slide and he brings his palms a little above the back of your knees to secure you.
“Oh my god they’re trying to climb the boxes!” You shriek.
“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” Atsumu shouts. One of them has managed to dip it’s claws into the first cardboard box has begun trailing its way up.
You snap your head to him, “Atsumu you fuck. DO SOMETHING!”
Atsumu desperately tries to kick away at them, balancing the both of with only a singular foot on an unsteady cardboard footing. He’s flailing his foot haphazardly at the large furry creatures, screaming incoherently.
Your combined shrieking uniting to form the most deafening harmony to land on human ears.
And then all in a split second Atsumu swings his foot a little too far, his balance betraying him. He tips to the ground, your body still tightly woven around him. The rats react to the masses approaching them from above and scurry away just in time, back into their hiding places.
And for the third time tonight, Atsumu has fallen to the floor, but this time sprawled on his back.
You blink your lids open hesitantly only to meet Atsumu’s surprised ones. The last few moments are a blur and your body is resting against Atsumu’s with your hands on his chest and his gripping the flesh at the back of your thighs. Your eyes blow wide and for whatever reason your breath begins to stutter in your throat.
Atsumu looks as if he’s forgotten how to breathe and your faces are so close that you can feel the warmth radiate off his skin. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, your breasts are pressed against him and the skin where his calloused fingers are digging into your thighs burns. His cheeks are littered with specks of red and neither of you move. Your mind darts at how your legs are spread across his hips, memories of you stupidly jumping onto him in your frenzy burn in your mind. You've found yourself enveloped in his arms and gulp. He inhales sharply, his honey gaze locked into yours.
Confusion devoid of hesitation turns in your mind and the loud thumping of your chest is ringing in your ears making blood rush to your beet face. His gaze is burning into you, it makes your skin feel hot and you don’t want to look away.
The door swings open in a loud thud, breaking you out of your trance. The both of you snap your heads up at the loud gasps from a very bewildered crowd standing by the entrance in their night clothes.
Meian looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his sockets, “What the fu-”
